Glassmaker
by Finwitch1
Summary: A story of one with a very clear concept of life in Riva. I put up the chapter called Meeting the Lady Polgara last.
1. Default Chapter

Fanfiction. Written down because some characters jump into reader's head and demand that more of them be told. Put into net so others may share the fun…

If you read David Eddings fanfic, you must of read at least some books he wrote.

For me, it's mainly Belgariad&Mallorean series, added with two. Or, should I say, Garion-books.

Sometimes it's the character barely mentioned in the original books that demands to be heard…

This story is about secondary character… I suggest you read all Garion-books before this if you haven't already, and at least the Belgariad.


	2. Apprentice

Apprentice 

At Brand's Day in 5367, Joran apprenticed himself to Torgan the Glassmaster, along with several others. On the first day of their apprenticeship Torgan took them to the mountains and showed them what the glass was made of: sand. 

"We could make glass only by melting this type of sand", Torgan told them, "but that would require more heat and therefore cost a bit too much". Torgan went on, showing them different things to mix into glass and explaining what they did in glass. Some eased melting, some colored the glass. Gold, for instance, was for making the glass crimson red. 

"Do Murgoes mix glass into their gold?" Garan asked upon hearing that. 

"Good point, Garan" Torgan laughed. "Murgo gold may help you to remember the colour of class including gold. And that the Murgo gold is not to be trusted for real — it must be fragile". 

Everyone laughed at that. They took the pieces of rock back to the house. Torgan showed them how one turned hard rocks into sand by carefully heating them in the oven. 

"Mind you, one must take care to make fine sand" Torgan cautioned. He mixed some of the fine sands and put the mix into another oven. It was amazing, really; heat could break rocks into sand and melt the sand into what was neither liquid nor solid: glass. Torgan took some of the glass to the end of a long pipe, and blowed into the glass, thus making it into a little ball. Then he showed them just how to form glass. 

Torgan kept the finer points to himself, prepared the ingredients from the stone and made the first little glass-ball. The apprentices tried out the forming of glass. Any errors they made were crushed, mixed with the sand and remelted, so none of it was wasted. 

Joran learned surprisingly fast how to make the glass bend to his will. Each piece he made was more and more perfect. For him, it was as though making glass had always been in his soul waiting to be released. 

However, all Torgan had his apprentices make, was bottles. Bottles for perfume, bottles for ale, and bottles for tonics. Joran soon got bored with that. Bottles, bottles, bottles and more bottles. One day, a day before the Memorial of king Gorek, Joran began to experiment. That day, Joran made one of his bottles look like Torgan's daughter, one like a harp one like a violin. Torell loved the idea of herself formed in glass. Torgan, however, ordered the experimental items crushed. 

"Dad!" Torell objected in high voice. 

"Hush" Torgan told her. "Don't break the bottles with your voice – why don't you go see if your mother needs help instead". 

She didn't say a word, just left. 

"I do not permit this kind of improper figures from my apprentice" Torgan said firmly after she had left. "My daughter may not be presented as emptyheaded and hollow. Is that understood, apprentice Joran?" 

"Yes, master" Joran replied, bowing his head. He hadn't thought it could be seen like that; as insult to her intelligence. 

"However fine your skill, you may not let it get into your head", Torgan told him, "It's not proper nor becoming to show off like that" 

"Please, master" Joran said quietly, "I just wanted to try out, to experiment…" 

"We're selling bottles to customers who need nice, _simple_ bottles" Torgan replied stiffly. "Experimenting with orders is bad for business. Customers won't come back if they don't get what they ordered". 

Joran bowed his head. "Don't you think I'd learn something more by experimenting, sir?" 

"Learn to fulfill your orders, Joran. I will teach you more later, but today it's nice and simple bottles", Torgan replied. "Tomorrow, of course, is King Gorek's day. You'll need to go home to prepare with your father earlier today… just make a few simple bottles first, will you?" 

"I will, master" Joran said and sighed. Gorek's Day was not pleasant nor was it supposed to. It was the day of grief, after all. For Joran, however, it was worse than it was to others. He knew not how it was for others to spend the day in the Temple and with family – one and same for Joran, due to the fact that his father was the Rivan Deacon. 

On the next morning, at dawn, all Rivans went to the Temple. All of them, with no exception. Some of them were ill, some healthy, some old and some not yet born. They waited in silence. The Rivan Deacon lit a candle. 

"I grieve for His Majesty, king Gorek the Wise, murdered by Nyissan" he said. Everyone repeated the phrase. 

The Deacon lit another candle. "I grieve for Her Majesty, Queen Drusell, wife to King Gorek the Wise. Also murder by Nyissan" he said, and again the phrase was repeated by all. 

"I grieve for Prince Gared, son to king Gorek and Queen Drusell, murdered by Nyissan" they said with the next candle. 

"I grieve for Princess Arell, wife to Prince Gared, murdered by Nyissan" they said. 

"I grieve for Prince Bralon, the eldest son of Prince Gared and Princess Arell, murdered by Nyissan". 

"I grieve for Prince Darral, the second son of Prince Gared and Princess Arell, murdered by Nyissan". 

"The youngest grandson of King Gorek the Wise", the Deacon said gently, "Brave child he was, at age of five, excaped the Nyissan daggers by throwing himself into the Sea of Winds, thus refusing to let a Nyissan slay him with poison. Better be the Sea, which Belar commands, rather than the poison of Issa. The Sea of Winds is cold, but it has been known to throw drowned bodies ashore. One of those was my wife. We have never found the body of the youngest Keeper, or has there been a change of late, my Lord Brand?" 

"There has not, your Reverence" Brand replied. "And the Sea of Winds has thrown my wife ashore as well". 

"We may hope, then, that the Line of the Keeper is still intact" the Deacon said. "King Geran the Survivor was way too young, but Alorns raised as one and burned the jungles of Nyissa, for it had been on orders of Salmissra that the royal family was slain" he put out a candle. "The Nyissan asassins were questioned and killed" the Deacon said and put out another. "There was Angaraks behind Salmissra, and Torak's disciple, Zedar. Angaraks and Torak we have fought…" 

Brand stood up, holding up a shield. "In Vo Mimbre, with help of all the nations of the West, Torak was struck down by the Orb in the shield of Brand. He is comatose, not dead, for only the Keeper with the Sword of Rivan King could slay Torak the God, but he has been struck with all we have". Brand put out one more candle. 

Three candles were burning. The Rivans recalled that only reason the asassins managed to land onto the Isle of Winds and do their nasty business, was due to Tolnedrans who had managed to gain access from Cherek Warships and not be sank. "But Rivans sank the first ships to the last one" the Deacon said, putting out one more candle. Three candles burning. They recalled that Tolnedrans had still caused the existance of non-Alorn business. 

"They acted in ignorance and with peaceful intent" the Deacon said. "Tolnedrans payment for their involvement in this, however, has been settled. Each Tolnedran princess is offered in marriage to the Rivan king who is absent. Three days she's to stay, three days waiting for the Overlord to accept or deny her. We may hope it's once paid once and for all". One more candle was put out. 

"May the Keeper return while we live" the Deacon said gently. 

He went on, listing out each one who had died since then. For each dead one, he mentioned how the death had come to be, and that the body had returned from the Sea of Winds and afterwards cremated. The last of the dead was the deacon's wife. 

After the ceremony everyone went home, leaving Joran alone with his father. However, Joran's father paid his son no attention. He prayed for the dead. As a child, Joran had sometimes wished he were dead, just to get some attention. He sighed and settled to eating something.Privately, Joran thought that all the rememberance was highly unnecessary since well over thousand years had passed since the death of King Gorek. 

At sunset, the deacon prayed for his late wife, Joran's mother. His prayer ended exactly as the last beam of sunlight was gone. He joined Joran for supper in candlelight. "Thoughtful of you, Joran" he thanked his son in a hoarse voice. 

"You know, father" Joran said, "don't you think all this praying for everyone..." 

His father's face went stiff. "As you're fourteen now, Joran, you should know better than to question how a man carries out his calling, particularly as you don't share it". 

The next morning Joran returned to Torgan's with a serious face. Torgan showed Joran the sands. "You may experiment freely in this area" Torgan told him, "but only in small doses…" he went on with instructions and finally said, "and next time you feel yourself getting bored, you come talk to me". 

"Yes, Master" Joran replied and got into learning how to mix sands. Soon he had learned to visualise the effect of each grid of sand and Joran managed to make perfect mix each time. 

Torgan was, once again, amazed by the sheer talent of the apprentice. While the balls were of different colours, due to experiments, they all were clear. It showed that Joran had learned the making of glass better than well. His experiments were different colours, but all the best quality. Joran finished his experiment after he had one little ball of every colour. Each of them was perfectly clear. 

"I'm done with the mix-experiment, master Torgan" Joran said then. "What may I begin learning next?" 

"Interested, are you?" Torgan said. "Well… I suppose I could trust you with the heaters, but Erastide comes first…" 

At Erastide, Joran helped his father decorate the Temple, and then they actually talked. 

"Will you stop all that Gorek's Day prayer if the king _does_ return?" Joran asked. 

"Only if the Keeper _commands_ me to" the Deacon said. "but I dare say that the Day of Return is near, Joran". 

"How can you tell?" Joran asked. 

"Prophecy" the Deacon replied. "_When the day of the Dead is full and Death produces a life, be prepared. In midwinter is the Survivor born. He survives the Fire of burning Stone House. He survives Water. He survives attack of boar. He He survives Poison that would kill any other. He survives the attack of madness. By his touch a dead one gains life and be marked forever as his. He completes the creation of the World. He lifts Sword in blue Flame that burns him not. This proves him the King of Riva and the Overlord of the West_". 

Joran blinked. "The Day of Dead has been full for as long as I can remember, Father" he said dubiously. 

Joran's father chuckled. "That's why I say his return is near, Joran" he said. "The day was full the day you were born, Joran. Your birth was the life produced on the Day of the Dead – by your mother's Death. I daresay that you will see his return, Joran". 

"Still, it's been fourteen years" Joran said. "Why have we heard nothing?" 

"We will hear when he lifts the Sword" his father said. "Not before. And how is your studying going?" 

Joran told him of his extra-studies. 

His father nodded approvingly. "Study as hard as you can" he said. "I want to see one of your pieces when you're up to that, mind you…" 

They talked all Erastide. Then Joran returned to Torgan's glass-shop to study. Studying heaters in mid-winter was quite nice actually, as it kept him warm and in time, Torgan showed Joran each and everything about glass-making, only insisting breaks for the holidays. 

Joran learned very fast, so fast that Torgan soon ran out of the 'extra' to teach Joran. Then Joran asked if he could start making his own work. "I know it's earlier than usual, but… something tells me that's how I best serve the Orb". 

Torgan nodded in agreement. So Joran did get to do his own work, while still doing bottles for Torgan before he'd been a year as apprentice. His first attempts were little bears he crushed because he wanted them to be perfect. Joran concentrated on learning to make them as detailed as possible until finally, only a day before Belar's Feast one of them looked as if he was alive. 

"You continue to amaze me, Joran" Torgan commented when he saw that one. 

Joran smiled. "I'll give it to the Temple" he said. "I hope my father likes it". 

At Belar's Feast that day, Joran did so. His father smiled at the bear-figure. The Belar's Feast lasted, as was customary, well into the night. That night Joran had the oddest dream… 


	3. Crystal Wren

The Crystal Wren 

Joran awoke. He spent a moment trying to remember every detail of his dream as his father had taught him to do long time ago. There had been a little wren, made of crystal. The Wren had shown him a cave in the mountains. "Here you find what you need" the Wren had said. "Make me. Make me… Let me go away". Then the wren had begun to glow blue light until there was nothing but blue, and then the blue light had dimished into a grey stone. 

Joran dressed quietly and went to tell the dream to his father. 

"You have been called to the Orb's service, Joran" his father told him. "Do as you were told and delay no more". 

Joran nodded and went to the cave he'd seen in his dream to gather ingredients. He returned to Torgan's and began to make a little bird. 

The cracking sound woke Torgan up."What do you think you're doing, using the heater this early, Joran?" Torgan demanded, "Most of us sleep still after Belar's Feast yesterday!" 

"I didn't want to delay in obeying my dream, sir" Joran said. "Father said I was called to Orb's service". 

"Very well. Keep firmly in mind that you're serving the Orb when you do this. If you permit anything to distract you from this first and utmost duty, it is my duty as your master to give you a firm and severe chastisement". 

Instead of answering, Joran concentrated on the work with the wren. He made several pieces of glass to become wrens, just in case. He would make something else out of them if the first piece wouldn't be perfect. He picked the one that looked most like the wren in his dream and began to form, polish and carve it. He had enough spare mix to add on feathers and such. As he worked, he did his best to remember that this was for the Orb. He was meticulous, he was careful with every single feather. He focused so hard on his work and the Orb, that he forgot everything else. It was like magic. Only thing in his mind was to make that little piece perfect for the Orb. That little bird of crystal became his life, his being. He worked with everything he had, body and soul – for the Orb. 

Joran collapsed. He had given it all. All. But it had been worth it. It had been. The wren was done and finished for the Orb. 

*******************

Joran looked around. "I… I didn't faint on top of the wren, did I?" he demanded of Torgan who was standing on top of him. 

Torgan smiled. "No, Joran, you didn't" he said. "Concern for the piece made in the service… Good. You have proven your place as Rivan with so devoted a servitude to the Orb" Torgan said. "You are a true Glassmaker". 

Joran nodded wearily and didn't object when he was told to take a bath and go downstairs for breakfast. 

Breakfast was merely porridge, but even so, Joran considered it a feast. While eating, he didn't speak, only thought about the wren; how beautiful it was, how he had worked to make it… for the Orb. Torgan's wife and daughter tried occasionally to get his attention, but Joran's mind was on the Orb and the wren. He didn't speak a word. 

"The Orb's faithful servants don't usually speak much" Torgan told them. "They're too occupied with the duties they have to accomplish". 

"As is only proper" Merell, Torgan's wife, said approvingly. "For the Holy Orb". 

Torgan's daughter, Torell, did not dare speak a word. So far as she knew, Joran was the youngest ever to have been called to service. Many adolescents would try and make their bleak city more colourful, much to their elders' disapproval, but it was clear to Torell that Joran would not. He had been called, and just like her parents, Joran seemed to have no heart for anything but his work. She wished that there was something she could do for Joran, to help him have a bit fun… but all she could do, was play her harp to relieve the boredom of her father's other apprentices. 

Joran made twenty bottles that day, to make up for the ten he'd missed doing the day before. 

"You need a break, Joran," Torell told him. 

Joran opened his mouth to object, but couldn't get a word out. 

"What good can you do for the Holy Orb, if you do not care for _yourself_?" she asked innocently. "I may be just a girl, but after all that work, I sort of doubt you ought to do anything else today". 

Reluctantly, Joran agreed. Maybe he _did_ need to relax. Joran went to the Central Temple of Belar. His father looked at him sternly. "I did not see you here yesterday, son" he said after Joran had entered. 

"I was called to service, father" Joran replied stiffly. "You remember that, don't you?" 

"We exist to serve the Holy Orb" his father replied, "But due to your absence, you missed a piece of important news". 

"News, Father?" Joran asked. 

"The Orb is gone" his Father said. "Brand's alerted Belgarath and Alorn monarchs, of course, but mainly, all we can do now is wait and keep our faith". 

"Gone?" Joran repeated. "How… how can that be?" 

"Sceptics won't be satisfied until Belgarath comes with facts, but I think the Orb decided it wants the Keeper's attention". 

Joran blinked. "I don't understand" he said, shaking his head. 

"Of course you do" Father said. "As I recall, _you_ ran away to get my attention some time back. Seems to me that all children do that — and now the Orb does, too…" 

"You weren't very understanding to _me_" Joran said bitterly. 

"Other children come to seek Belar as well as getting attention from their parents. Their parents do come here to seek help and find their children. It is good for the child to find safety of Belar and parents know where the child went, so it's not such a big worry. Temple is a sanctuary to all children of Belar" the Deacon Seral said, crossing his arms. "You, on other hand, ran away _from_ the Temple in order to seek attention on the Day of the Dead". 

They talked more, but the discussion ended fast. Joran abandoned his art, for he had no heart for it. Not when the Orb was gone. He did do his daily ten bottles, but that was pretty much it. Torgan didn't mention the matter until it had been on for a few months. 

"You don't seem to have much lust for your art anymore" Torgan commented. 

"Not until the Orb's safe" Joran sighed. "My art belongs to the Orb". 

"If you say so" Torgan said, "but don't expect to get a dream for every glass-piece you're about to do and sell, Joran. I doubt it would work that way. You'd best find yourself a not-so-artistic product you can sell if you can't make your glass animals just like that". 

Joran nodded. "Thank you, master," he said. 

Nearly a year went past as Joran made crystal goblets, as well as plates and such. Then one night, he _did_ have a dream. The dream had come from the Orb, he was certain of that. It had been very excited. 

That day Joran made a glass-figure. The figure had a child in the simplest of outfits holding a round blue ball, to the man who held his hand over the stone, ready to receive it. After he was finished, Joran quickly wrapped it. He remembered all too well how Torgan had reacted the last time he had made a human-figure. He would show this first to the Keeper, if he'd ever show it to anyone. Joran kept the piece safe in his room and took a quick peek at the figure occasionally, for it gave him hope. The hope of the king's return. 

Only person Joran had ever really told about his dreams was his father who encouraged him to remember them and to make them into glass-figures. His father also told the children who came to him for education about remembering and acting by their dreams - as Riva had made his sword by advice given in a dream. "That Sword still sits above the throne, even though the Orb is gone" he told them, "and none but the Rivan king has ever so much as touched it and lived. This is how we will know for certain who our king shall be". 

After the kids went home that day, the Deacon looked at his son. "The time's soon enough, then" he said. "Do pay attention to your dreams, every detail – it might be important even if you don't understand it yet". 

"It's just that Torgan doesn't like my making human figures" Joran sighed. "He'd have them crushed…" 

"Don't let him see them. It should be kept between you, Orb, the Keeper and glass", Father advised, "He'll be here soon enough, if your dreams are any indication. You will obey the Keeper, of course, no matter what he tells you to do about it". 

"Yes, Father" Joran said. 

"Well, anyway… I think it's time I show you some of the prophecy that involves you" the Deacon said. "Here. This is known as the Rivan Prophecy". He read it aloud. 

_Behold: The Keeper shall read the heart of the Clearer, like it was an open book. And the Clearer shall make all other hearts of the people visible to the Keeper so that he may better care for them._

Joran blinked. "Clearer? What…" 

Father laughed. "You do know what they say is the mark of good glass, Joran?" 

"Clearness?" Joran said. "But… well, maybe the sand it's made of is not clear to others…" 

"There you go" his father said. "You'll understand better when it happens, I suppose. If you truly are that Clearer, that is, but the marks point to that you are. Making those glass-fgures might be a part of it". 

Joran kept on doing his glass-figures, still going to the market every day. Then, one day, he heard that the Orb had been safely gained, and it was coming to Riva. The next night Joran dreamed of a child patting the head of a colt. A week later he dreamed of a man holding a flower Joran had never seen before. A week after that, just before Erastide, Joran had a dream of a ship.

With the preparation for Erastide, Joran decided to make the ship right after Erastide. On the day of Erastide, at Noon, the Sun came out – as rare as that was. There was something far more important than the odd weather, though: King Belgarion. Brand introduced their king to the people, and Joran looked at the Keeper's face carefully. He recognised the returned Rivan king as the man who'd been shown to him in a dream. 

That evening Joran had dinner in the Temple with several others, sharing the joy of king's return. Joran didn't let himself to get involved in speculation about where Belgarion had been raised. If the prophecy held true, he'd probably meet His Majesty, and then he'd find out for certain. 

"Well, it could be Belgarath's tower" Garan suggested. Many agreed with that. 

"Why matter, though, main thing is that he's here now, right?" Joran said thoughtfully. 

They laughed. 

"Toast to the Orb's Keeper" Deacon said, raising his glass, and everybody drank to honour the Keeper. 

Joran returned to the glass-shop early, in order to make that ship he'd seen in his dream the next morning... 


	4. Meeting the Keeper

_Authors notes: Thank you to my reviewers. This chapter has to do with Joran's first meeting with king Belgarion. While much of the material comes from Castle of Wizardry, well, I'm presenting it from Joran's point of view and try to make the parts from the original book more in a way of a summary instead and put in something extra..._ Meeting the King 

Very early during the next morning Joran began to make the crystal ship he'd seen in his dream a week before Erastide. He concentrated on his work almost as hard as he had with the wren. He was nearly finished, just doing the final polishing and carving, when he heard the bell at the door announce arrival of customers. Joran heard that his master show the crystal wren to someone and praised the quality of his work. 

Torgan was explaining about Rivans to someone and mentioning their purpose of guarding the Orb. Joran smiled to himself, outsiders always heard the word _guarding_ while between Rivans only the word was **serving**. Outsiders just wouldn't understand the serving part at all… 

Joran gave a glance to see who had entered, when he had heard their steps. It was the Keeper! Joran laid his eyes quickly back to his work, not wishing to fail under his eyes of all people, particularly not now that he was almost done with it! Joran wrapped the ship carefully and placed it on the shelf. 

He heard king Belgarion ask to see the crystal wren again. Joran's heart turned a somersault out of excitement, but he forced himself to stay calm as he entered the room. The king was staring at the Crystal Wren. Staring. That was always a good sign, Torgan had said when teaching Joran about making business. 

"Does it please Your Majesty?" Joran asked politely. 

The king was pleased with him and his work, all right. In addition, he asked almost immediately that they drop all the 'Majesties' as he put it. Joran was more than happy to provide that wish to the Keeper, bound to obey anyway, whatever the Keeper would tell him to do. As Belgarion had openly told him how unused and totally surprised he was to all that king-business, Joran responded by telling him what the people were speaking of him. 

"Actually I was raised in Sendaria by my Aunt Pol, Belgarath's daughter" Belgarion told him. 

Now that was something. Joran didn't even have to ask, all he had to do was tell the king what people were wondering about. To keep up the conversation, he asked about Polgara, if she was as beautiful as they said she was — the legendary heartbreaker had quite a reputation in Riva. 

"I've always thought so" Belgarion told him. 

Joran mentioned something about Polgara being able to turn into a dragon – the dragon-lady who had left all men without her favor while bossing them around like cattle. 

Belgarion took this 'turn into' more literally, though, as if there was no other way to think of it and told Joran she preferred the form of a snowy white owl and how birds always went wild at the sight of her. 

Birds reminded Joran of a legend that said a bird had rescued Prince Geran. Maybe Polgara knew more of it, maybe it even was Polgara herself who actually did it. Suddenly Joran needed very badly to meet Lady Polgara, and perhaps… perhaps Belgarion would come too, so he could show those pieces to someone… 

"I'd give anything to be able to meet her," Joran told Belgarion without thinking. He glanced around. He had nothing else worthy to give than… the Crystal Wren. Joran considered it. He could sell it for a lot – but it being there, with many of the nobles and royalty seeing it — this would be excellent advertisement in itself. It would bring him contacts, orders, money — just by _being_ there. He didn't consider long. Besides, he had said: "Give anything." And this was the Keeper. Joran would never lie to him. Never. 

"Do you think she'd like this little thing?" Joran asked Belgarion doing his best to sound offhanded. 

"Like it? She'd love it!" Belgarion exclaimed. 

Joran tried to offer it. 

Belgarion rejected saying he had no money with him. 

This didn't stop Joran. He had said _give_ and to _give_ he intended. "Take it as a gift from me" Joran said. 

Belgarion tried to counter it as 'too valuable' – definitely approved piece. 

Joran told his king it was only glass, and that glass was only melted sand, and that sand was the cheapest thing in the world. 

The king did finally agree. Joran went to wrap it, explaining how it was not good for glass to go out into cold from a warm room. 

The wren seemed to look at him disapprovingly. Joran felt a bang of guilt hitting him hard. Joran sighed. "I haven't been exactly honest with you" he confessed. He explained all about the advertisement he was to gain. He stopped in mid-sentence, eyeing Torell by the harp. He'd really need his own business to court her – Torgan wasn't willing to let an apprentice to court his daughter, after all… 

"And you can't get married until you've based your own business?" the king said, interrupting Joran's day dreams. 

_He reads the Heart of the Clearer like an open book, and the Clearer shall make the Hearts of the people visible to the Keeper…_ father's voice spoke in the back of Joran's head. 

"Your Majesty will be a very wise king" Joran said formally, silently accepting his task as the Clearer. 

Belgarion muttered something about his first blunders he had to go trough first. 

"My condolences, Your Majesty" Torgan said, bowing. "I hope you find it comforting to know that I find you a good king now". 

"Thank you, Torgan" Belgarion said, obviously feeling a bit confused. 

"Most people were _congratulating_ him yesterday" Lelldorin noted, frowning in puzzlement. 

"That's because yesterday was Belgarion's _birthday_", the Drasnian laughed, "and in case you never noticed, Lelldorin, every king has lost his father. If he hadn't, he'd be the crown _prince_, not the king – because the king would be the father". 

"If you say so, Prince Kheldar" Lellrodin said earnestly. 

Belgarion shook his head sadly. "I don't even remember my parents" he said. "They died before I was a day old". 

"Murdered" Lelldorin added grimly. "Are we going to war against the murderers, Belgarion?" 

"No. I dealt with that fellow already" Belgarion told him. "And Belgarath was right – I didn't like it – but it was something I had to do". 

"Of course, Belgarion" Lelldorin said. "It's always that way". 

"It is?" Belgarion asked, "No offence, dear friend, but why do you Arends keep doing revenge to the point of civil war, if it's always met with such regret and guilt?" 

"It's a duty, Belgarion" Lelldorin shrugged, "Duty needs not be pleasant". 

Belgarion shook his head. "Don't you think it'd be simpler and easier to just forgive and go on with life?" 

"_You_ did it", Lelldorin accused. 

"I admit that killing is sometimes necessary", Belgarion replied. "I don't approve that regrettable act to be made into a general principle". 

They left after chatting a bit more. Joran hoped he would get a chance to see Belgarion alone so he could show him those glass pieces, but this didn't seem like the right moment. Not with those two non-Rivans present, anyway. 


	5. Meeting Lady Polgara

_All right, here's next. I've always wondered about Joran meeting Polgara - he wanted to see her, and she him - but we never got to see if he even did get to do so... This chapter is about how they did meet...  
mac-c: I don't know about Joran having Will & Word any more than Lelldorin has (as the Archer), but he might... I haven't really decided that yet!_

Meeting Lady Polgara 

After the meeting with Belgarion, Torgan permitted Joran and Torell to be a little more openly together. "Well, you won't get me to act against anything the Keeper approves" Torgan said and gave the two a stern look. "And remember, nothing improper. You'll marry after Joran bases his own business and until then, you keep your clothes on. Is that clear?" 

"Crystal" they both said and went back to work. 

Only few weeks later, early in the morning, a rare company of three entered the shop, coming to see Joran. They were King Belgarion, Lady Polgara and a child. Joran recognised the child immediately. This was the child he'd seen in his dreams. The Orb-bearer. Joran greeted Belgarion first, then the Orb-bearer, and lastly, Lady Polgara. She had raised her eye-brow at the word Orb-bearer, but said nothing. 

"So you're the one who made that beautiful Crystal Wren" Polgara said. "You really wanted to give it to me? Are you sure you wouldn't have anything in return?" 

"No, my Lady. A gift is a gift." Joran rejected more firmly than he had intended. "But you may tell all others who see the Wren that it's from me" he added with a smile. 

"I see". Polgara laughed. "Not totally without self-interest, then. What's there for you when I go back to the Vale of Aldur?" 

"Then that's the best place for it to be" Joran said dreamily. 

"Errand" the child said with conviction. 

Joran smiled and nodded. "I presume your errand is completed?" he asked. 

"Belgarion" the child replied with a note of finality. 

"I'd like to hear how little king Geran survived" Joran said, "I believe you know something of it". 

"King Geran?" Belgarion frowned. "I thought you said his name was Prince Gared, Aunt Pol?" 

"Prince Gared was king Geran's father" Joran said in confusion. 

Polgara, however, had lost herself deep in thought. "Are you certain the survivor was named Geran?" she asked, obviously fighting off some confusion. 

"Positive" Joran said. "Any Rivan would. My father, the Rivan Deacon – along with his predecessors, has made sure of that. We remember the names of our dead since the first day of fall in 4002. The Deacon begins with King Gorek the Wise and his wife, Queen Drusell. Their son, Prince Gared; Princess Arell, wife to Prince Gared. The eldest son of Prince Gared, Prince Bralon, only nine at the time. The second son, Prince Darral, only seven. And the third and last, King Geran the Survivor, who went into the Sea of Winds in refusal to be slain by the way of Issa, but willingly embracing the Sea of Belar. The list continues with every Rivan who's died since then. Their bodies were ceremonially given to the Sea of Winds, but the Sea always returned them, so we had to burn them instead. The last on the list is my mother, died on Gorek's Day, giving birth to me". 

"Yes… I remember now" Polgara said. "He wanted to be a pirate, as I recall". 

"So you saved him?" Joran asked. "There's that story of a bird…" 

She smiled. "I was a bird when father and I flew here, because the ruining of Tolnedran roads warned us of the Nyissan attack. I saw him down there, not knowing him at first, but I dived to save that little boy. We hid under a platform until it was dark. I managed to heat the water enough to keep us warm". 

"What did you do then?" Belgarion asked in sudden interest. 

"First we hid in my house in Erat that's hidden beneath roses. Few know it still exists" Polgara said. "You've been there, Garion… we went there after your parents died we left for Faldor's when you were six months old". 

"You didn't spend all the time in there, though…" Belgarion said. 

"Of course not" Polgara said. "he had to get married, after all… Anyway, we spent our time learning different crafts, mainly in Sendaria, but occasionally in Alorn kingdoms… We moved often, and became more and more obscure each time". 

Then the discussion went to Geran and Ildera, Belgarion's parents and how they had died. 

Joran frowned in disbelief. "Stones won't burn" he said stiffly. "They tend to crack instead". 

"I've seen the house. My father cut a passage for me into the wall – the last thing he did". Belgarion said firmly. "Trust me, that house _did_ burn". 

Joran bowed his head. Anyone else he would argue, but not Belgarion. And one stone _did_ have a flame within. "Survivor of the fire in a stone house" Joran muttered to himself. Truth was even more miraculous than the fiction they had come up with for that passage… 

"Is that why you have such a lack of understanding to danger, Garion?" she asked. "So that you go rafting without bothering to learn how to swim first?" 

"I was about to get the hang of swimming when that log hit me unconscious" Belgarion said. "I've never heard of anyone who'd managed to swim after a quick hit on the head. And I'm not altogether certain that Chamdar didn't have something to do with that, too". 

"Survivor of Water" Joran said. "Like king Geran the Survivor" he added quickly, but his eyes told Belgarion there was more. More 'survivor titles' awaiting for explanation. 

Belgarion changed the subject. "You know, I wonder how people seem to accept me so readily..." he said. "It's been over thirteen centuries, after all". 

"Some of us knew you'd come, Belgarion" Joran said. "My father kept telling me that I would see that day. He had this prophecy and it told exactly when the 'Survivor' was born". 

"Prophecy? What prophecy? Neither Mrin nor Darine speak nothing of it", Polgara asked in sudden interest. 

"The Rivan Prophecy, my Lady" Joran replied. "That was spoken by Iron-grip himself after giving the Sword to Daran the Regent, until the moment he held Daran's son in his arms. I have been told that Riva Iron-grip knew the time of his death before he died". 

She frowned. "I... I must speak with your father" she said. "Where might I find him?" 

"At the Temple of Belar, ma'am" Joran replied. "He's the Deacon, after all..." 

She was gone pretty soon after that, hunting down a prophecy. 

"I suppose that prophecy also mentions all these 'survivor' things?" Belgarion asked. 

"It does, Your Majesty" Joran said. "There's a copy at the Citadel". 

"Why didn't you tell her that?" Belgarion asked him. 

"She didn't ask" Joran replied. "Besides, my father will want information about the whereabouts of your family for the record. And there's something you two ought to see, but I didn't want to show to her..." 

"Oh?" Belgarion said. 

Joran unwrapped a glasspiece, a figure showing the little boy giving the Orb to Belgarion. "Here you are", Joran said, presenting it to them. "As I told Your Majesty earlier, I recognised you as soon as I saw you -- at the market when Brand was presenting you to the people". 

"Errand!" the little child clapped his hands. 

"Yes, that was your errand" Belgarion told him. "It's over now so you might try and learn new words". 

"Belgarion" the child said. 

"That's a start, Errand" Belgarion told him. "Could you think of a third word?" 

"The child didn't reply. 

Joran smiled and unwrapped a glassfigure showing the child, Errand, patting a horse. 

"Horse!" the child exclaimed. 

"My my... it was all true then, I suppose..." Joran muttered. 

"What was?" Belgarion asked. 

"My father had this theory when the Orb was gone, Belgarion" Joran replied. "It run away to get your attention like a child". 

"Could be..." Belgarion mused. 

"What would you like me to do with those pieces?" Joran asked Belgarion. "Shall I give them to you or crush them?" 

Belgarion blinked at that question. "You... you weren't going to _sell_ them?" 

Joran shook his head. "Only if you _command_ me to" he said, "and in that case, I would be just as reluctant to keep the money". 

The child hugged the figures protectively. So Belgarion decided to take the figures with him -- although he was not going to let anyone see it... 


End file.
